Finding Myself
by Susan Elizabeth Hall
Would you like to share Your Story with us? It's easy! Submit your copy by e-mailing it to Cindy Martin here at TGF. Hope to hear from YOU!
My earliest memories of my feminine side are lost in the mists
of time. But in the Autumn of my life, I can recall struggling
with it from the age of seven, when a curious little boy, an only
child, asked his mother what it felt like to wear nylons. Her
innocent and, for the late 1940s, open answer was, "Would
you like to try some on and find out?" "Well, OK."
I said, and she went to her bedroom and brought out a pair for
me to try on in my own room. In helping me satisfy my curiosity,
her innocent gesture led to a very profound revelation. However,
the outcome of that revelation was borne all alone for decades.
Mine was what I would call a typical childhood, albeit a shy one.
I was never athletically inclined, nor was I interested in playing
with dolls. Life just went on, and life was nice. My parents
were loving, and were firm, but fair. There was no child abuse.
Certainly there was no coercion to wear feminine things as punishment.
That all happened through the actions of yours truly.
Soon, I was trying on other things when my folks went to the store.
Eventually, I worked up the courage to buy certain items of my
own. In my own way, I witnessed the transition from full-fashioned
seamed stockings to seamless pantyhose in the feminine realm,
something that no other boy in the world, or so I thought, ever
had noticed or would ever notice. Of course, every transgendered
individual growing up echoes these words, with slight variations.
Through high school and undergraduate college, into my early 20s,
I lived at home. I still furtively tried my mother's things,
but also had more of my own. Today, under the attic flooring
of that old house, there are probably still decaying remnants
of nylon fibers, including classic seamed nylons, with black heels
and toes. I took a fancy to leotards and tights, as they came
on the market. I even managed to acquire a wig and began early
explorations with makeup, when my parents were away on a short
holiday and I stayed home. My first stint at Graduate School
was my first time away from home. I shared a dormitory room with
two other fellows and was pretty much shut out of any opportunities
for feminine exploration. Still, there always was something hidden
away. In the college library, I began to learn that there were
others like me for the first time.
In a used bookstore, I picked up a booklet about French female
impersonators and marveled at the amazing transformations. There
was the legendary Coccinelle, looking for all the world like a
born woman. There was a picture of her in the out-of-doors, adding
her grace to a beautiful sunlit fountain in the town plaza of
a nameless French village. I fantasized at looking so feminine.
Further, there was a series of photos of a fantastic transformation
to the woman, Renée. I imagined myself undergoing that
same transformation, wondering how it would feel. I kept that
book, but somehow lost track of it over the years. Had I hung
onto it, it would be a priceless classic today. Yet, thirty years
later, I saw those wonderful photos once again, right here in
Transgender Forum.
After getting my Masters, I came home and found the girl of my
dreams. I chased her until she caught me. When we got married,
I just assumed that these strange urges would just go away. Girl,
was the joke on me! If anything, the urges intensified. One
year into the marriage, an opportunity to return to Graduate school
and obtain a Ph.D. came along, and my wife and I embarked on this
quest together. However, while she was working and my classes
were over, I would often come back to our apartment in the afternoon
to dress. I had secretly collected a complete outfit once again
and had graduated to full dress and full makeup. Finally I realized
the truth; it would not go away, and I tried to tell my wife in
our third year of marriage. With her mild encouragement, I even
dressed for her one evening, but her reaction was one of discomfort,
to put it mildly. So I continued to dress, out of sight, out
of mind. After school, and beyond through all these years, it
never went away, but I never brought the subject up. She thought
that my urges had faded away. It would come and go, but the vestiges
of Susan were always there.
Through the 1970's, we had a family and my career progressed.
Again, I always had a rudimentary wardrobe, furtively hidden
in one of my stereo speaker cabinets. I don't think there was
any speaker cabinet that was disassembled and reassembled so often.
But when my wife was out shopping, I would get my things out,
usually a just a bra, slip, panties and hose, and perhaps a scarf
to cover my head (I felt, and feel, very uncomfortable without
a wig or facsimile.). I would relax, if only for a few minutes.
In 1980, I lost my father, and, in 1983, my mother. I leave it
to the psychologists to determine if this was a trigger. At any
rate, there soon began a period of intense crossdressing that
would not end to this day . . . my own midlife crisis, I guess.
I gathered a compact, but complete ensemble to allow me to dress
and makeup completely. On business trips, in the motel, I would
explore my feminine side in earnest, but never in contact with
another human being. Every trip included such activities. I had
a cheap wig, from K-Mart, that I didn't know how to maintain and
it took on the appearance of road kill.
In my inexorable advance down the road to femininity, I began
to venture out of the motel room, and take drives after dark.
Once, my rental car's battery died, and I had to walk a mile,
in heels, back to the motel, change, and call the Auto Club.
On the way back, a local policeman stopped and asked if I was
OK. In the evening shadows, my identity was hidden, though I
was very concerned about my voice. I assured him I was fine and,
to my great relief, he wished me a pleasant evening and drove
on. Still, those furtive outings were generally harmless. The
most important thing was that I was out-of-doors, something that
was particularly special at that stage. Still, each success led
to a need for more.
Finally, in May of 1994, dressed as well as I knew how, but not
well enough, I took a first tentative exploration into a mall,
among others. Of course, I picked the worst time to go into a
mall, a Saturday afternoon. There I was spotted by a group of
teenage boys, who instantly read me and followed me. They hooted,
laughed and taunted me as I headed for the nearest exit. Somehow,
I kept my composure and walked on, looking straight ahead to avoid
eye contact. I recall the contempt in one youth's voice, as he
referred to me as "sir, or whatever the Hell you are."
Fortunately, there was no physical damage, just a saddened heart.
After I got to my car, I noticed a security guard looking my
way. He called out, "Are you all right?" Thankful
for this unexpected concern, I nodded "yes" but was
sick in my heart. At that point, I knew I needed help.
Through those years, I had done a lot of praying . . . to get
rid of whatever was wrong with me. There was no tangible answer
to that particular line of prayer, at least, as far as I knew.
When I returned from my fiasco at the mall, I sat down and prayed
once more. Without really thinking about it, I changed the prayer
somewhat. Instead of praying to get rid of my condition, I asked
for help in coping with it. Within days, that one was answered.
On returning to work after my business trip, an announcement came
across my desk that we were to have access to the Internet. Within
an hour after connecting, I was lurking in the transgendered newsgroups.
In the newsgroup FAQs, I found there was a local support group.
Quickly, I made a call to their hotline, where an answering machine
awaited me, ...then chickened out and hung up. This process was
repeated time and time again. Still, it was only a matter of
time. Finally, I did leave that message, and that very afternoon,
I was face-to-face at a local coffee shop with another man who
was also a crossdresser ...and I knew it, for the very first time.
Events then led me to attend the 1994 Be-All in Pittsburgh. It
was something that I felt I had to do. I feel that Divine intervention
played a role once more, as it was scheduled immediately before
a job-related conference, just two hours away, that I regularly
attended. The coincidence was incredible. So on June 10, 1994,
in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Susan Elizabeth was born at last.
Gemini, the Twins; what else. The experience was a miracle.
At last I had found, not only that I was not alone, but also that
I was OK. I didn't know where my life was heading, but I knew
that this new path held unbelievable promise. The euphoria of
that weekend continued through the week, at my business conference.
It was hard to concentrate on matters at hand.
When I returned home, however, that euphoria led me to make one
of the greatest mistakes of my life. Knowing of the strong marriage
that I had been blessed with, I felt that my wife had to know
of this. There should be no more secrets. I expected some anxiety.
Still, I felt that what we had built over the years since I clumsily
tried to tell her early on would carry the day. That was a serious
misjudgment on my part.
Her reaction was severe and angry. My euphoria turned to despair.
I feared I would lose her. Still, today we are together. The
love and strong marriage weathered the storm, and we are together
in all things...except this. I would dearly love to have her
come to understand what it is really about, but she is content
to ignore it, like the proverbial ostrich with head in the sand.
At the same time, her angry reaction instilled a fear within
me of bringing the subject up. One trait reinforces the other.
It's the classic "Don't ask; don't tell." Still, there
is a constructive conversation about once a year and I never give
up hope that she will come to understand. I may be a little old
lady in tennis shoes by then, but I have never given up hoping,
and praying.
On the other side of the coin, there is Susan. Having learned
that life is far too short, I had to move on, despite the home
problem. With help and counseling from so many giving friends
and a dedicated gender counselor, I have grown beyond anything
I could have dreamed of. I have had one wonderful ride and have
gained a renewed love of life. I have made friends with people
in and out of the TG community. What wonderful stories to tell!
Of course, the sad part is that I cannot share these wonderful
experiences with my partner and soul mate. And the gap of understanding
widens.
Early on, I thought about what I could do with this gift. Despite
some limitations in appearance, I felt that I just might be able
to get out in the real world and help others understand, as well
as help others like me. In time and with practice, I did just
that. What began as a tentative foray into a restaurant has led
to times where I have lived as a woman for days at a time. Relating
all of the experiences since 1994 would fill a book; indeed my
journal has grown by leaps and bounds. I obviously cannot put
them all in this article. Surely, we all feel that way. Still,
there are some thoughts and impressions that I would like to leave
here, if only to encourage others who are still in the darkness.
- A bright smile and gentle demeanor can perform miracles in
winning skeptical hearts.
- There are more open minds and hearts out there than you ever
could believe. And many know exactly where you're coming from.
One woman once told me to "keep doing what you're doing.
People need to know what you're really about."
- The "real world" friendships that you make can be
as sincere and rewarding as those you make within the transgender
community. In either case, a couple of extra layers of emotional
depth come into play.
- Women are much more accepting than men are.
- Many of the friendships that you make with women are truly
on a woman-to-woman basis without the male baggage. That was
an unexpected miracle for me. I have literally been welcomed
into the female gender by many.
- Be prepared to cry tears of happiness. Be prepared to hug
and be hugged.
- The first time at a restaurant or store can be awkward, but
the second time starts to win friends. They obviously remember
you, but they also realize you're very serious about what you're
doing.
- We all have a responsibility to make a good impression in
any business place. That is how transgender-friendly businesses
are created.
- Any goodwill created will inevitably benefit those to come.
It's yet another way to give something back to the community.
- Don't be offended if someone calls you "sir." It's
so easy for them to do. As you gain confidence, gently correct
them and you'll find you have made another friend.
- Use common sense on the restroom issue. Avoid the more public
facilities, but for Heaven's sakes, don't hold it and hurt yourself.
- It saddens my heart to see any dissension within the community
itself. We have much too much in common. Rhetorically speaking,
it often seems that female brain chemistry will not neutralize
a male ego :) .
- A misguided few will inevitably harass you, but it's far rarer
than you might believe. Maintain your dignity and self-confidence,
avoid eye contact, and the Good Lord will see you through it.
- It's their problem, not yours.
- There will be others who will be more discreet, but who may
notice and discuss you when they think you're not looking. You
will likely feel some anxiety, but it goes with the territory.
- It's their problem, not yours.
- Think carefully about the friends in your life. Some will
accept you. There is nothing more poignant than having dinner
en femme with a high school chum and his wife, sharing such an
important part of you at last. Indeed, they may well be honored
that you would share it.
- There is nothing more wonderful than being en femme out of
doors. The freedom of being who you really are, coupled with the
open skies and fresh air is miraculous. You too can walk in the
soft grass in your stocking feet.
- Colors, textures and sounds become more vivid as your feminine
mindset envelops you. Be prepared to compose spectacular photographs.
- As you grow in your femininity, bring your newfound perspective
into your male life. The whole person deserves to benefit.
- If you share the news of your gender gift with your loved
ones, don't let your heart get in front of your head. Think it
through! Seek advice.
- One size fits all doesn't.
- Thank God that you are transgendered. What a miraculous window
on the world! You have been given the opportunity to experience
life like few people ever do.
So, since that date in June, I have basked in the shining glow
of femme discovery after spending nearly fifty years hiding deep
in the womb of darkness, filled with guilt and shame. Although
my life has been turned upside-down and there are still several
thresholds to cross before this story plays itself out, there
are no regrets. The pluses have far outweighed the minuses and
my life, and my faith, have been immeasurably enhanced. The woman
within is no longer totally suppressed, though her spirit remains
hushed in many quarters. I do realize that, in comfortably living
"full-time" for short periods of opportunity, I am more
than a casual crossdresser. I may have a responsibility to myself,
but I also have a responsibility not to shatter the lives of those
I love. I pray that I can live with that, and that living the
dream will continue.
In closing, I would like to refer to the words of a great American heroine, a role model for all of us. Amelia Earhart, reflecting on her becoming the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic, said:
"My particular inner desire to fly the Atlantic alone was nothing new with me. I had flown Atlantics before. Everyone has [her] own Atlantics to fly. Whatever you want very much to do, against the opposition of tradition, neighborhood opinion and so-called 'common sense' ---- that is an Atlantic . . . "
"I flew the Atlantic because I wanted to . . . To want in one's heart to do a thing, for its own sake; to enjoy doing it; to concentrate all one's energies upon it ---- that is not only the surest guarantee of success. It is also being true to oneself."
All of us, whether fully in the world, deeply cloistered or somewhere in between, can take heart from that great woman's eloquent words. Being true to oneself, that is our personal "Atlantic."
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